


Tasty

by garden_hoe21



Category: American Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Terminator Salvation RPF
Genre: Bandages, Biting, Blanket Permission Policy, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bodily Fluids, Community: kink_bingo, Consensual Kink, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garden_hoe21/pseuds/garden_hoe21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is tasty. But so is Anton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tasty

Anton wraps one arm around the set medic's waist, putting his weight on her, and holds his shotgun with the other as she helps him stand up and limp away. By now he already knows none of the humans around him will find the odour of his blood strange. Human blood smells so strong, the sweetness lingering in the air hours after they've left. Yet he watches, amazed, as not one of them so much as wrinkles their nose at the scent of his.

Blood trickles into his sock, wetting the fabric, as emergency shears slide quickly up both legs and over his hips. They offer Anton painkillers and he takes them, even though they'll be metabolized out of his system within minutes, because it makes them feel better to take some kind of action. He notices a prickle of irritation coming from one of the production assistants. Examining it, he finds under it a quivering shame; basically, the man is annoyed with Anton for falling off a moving truck and whacking his shin, because now the PA has to go get him new Kyle Reese Pants from wardrobe. Anton pulls the assistant's gaze toward him and offers a friendly smile. The young man smiles back guiltily, then hurries away.

Once the frantic thumping of his heart has slowed and he's stopped shaking, it gradually occurs to Anton that his leg actually really, really hurts. Producers want actors to think making movies is safe, but it's actually really fucking dangerous doing your own stunts. Even though he knows nothing too serious can actually happen to him, accidents are still really fucking painful and scary when they happen.

To make matters worse, Sam Worthington is laughing. He's standing there, fucking guffawing like Anton falling off a moving truck is just the most hilarious shit he has ever seen. Anton could have been seriously hurt (well, no he couldn't, but as far as Worthington knows) but the entire time the set medic has been tending to him, the man has been shaking with uproarious laughter. The laughter isn't nervous... no, it seems to be coming from genuine amusement. No malice: he just thinks it's funny. He's not even trying to hide it.

Sam is a big chunk of a human, tall like most Hollywood guys but also sorta shaped like a brick. It's easy to see why he's been cast as the nigh-unstoppable human-machine hybrid, Marcus. Their relationship on set mirrors that of their characters: they are strangers, brought together by circumstance, forging a bond through chaos. Actually, that probably describes most relationships in Anton's profession.

McG decides they will take a break during which Anton's blood will be cleaned off the set and equipment, his leg bandaged and his harness double-checked, the lights re-set, the catering tables replenished, the medical insurance waivers re-signed, the lawyers consulted, the producers notified of the incident, Anton's mother called (she already knows, and she's pissed, but Anton doesn't mention it), and for everyone to regroup. Anton decides to pass the time running lines and finishing a roast chicken in his trailer. He's intermittently scratching at the edges of his bandaged wound, which itches as it rapidly heals, when he feels Sam approaching. This time he's nervous. Anton hides his second and third chicken before he hears a knock at the door.

"Just a minute." He limps to the door, affecting surprise to see Worthington there. "Oh, hey, man! Come on in."

Sam does so, and Anton lets himself plop back into his chair. It must be hard for humans to trust actors, given how hard they can be to read with humans' limited abilities. Sam, for example, appears much calmer than he feels. Would another human pick up on the tension coiled tight just above Sam's navel?

"How're you feeling?"

"Oh I'm fine, dude. Hurts like a motherfucker, though." He chuckles and instantly feels Sam's tension bloom into warmth. Huh. Apparently, Worthington thinks Anton's chuckle is fucking _adorable_. Anton can't help but lower his head a little and smile up at him, adorably, ancient instincts driving him to coax a bigger reaction out of the human. It works and Anton discreetly takes a hit off the tiny morsels of Sam's adoration, his curiosity. Maybe he won't need the entire third chicken after all today.

Sam has mentioned before that his vision is somewhat impaired, that he can't see things that are far away. Now his gaze has travelled to Anton's bandaged leg. He's squinting.

Interesting.

"Look, I just wanted to say sorry about earlier." Why is he still looking at it? Gradually, Anton feels Sam's curiosity picking at the edges of the gauze. "I ah..."

Anton offers his most reassuring, we're-all-friends-here smile, waits for the silence to become awkward enough for Sam to continue. Eventually Sam looks up.

"It's just, you made this noise..." Anton feels the laughter bubble up inside Sam before it bursts out. "I had this guinea pig when I was a kid, and I swear, when he was startled he made a noise _exactly_ like that." Sam spent time as a child loving and nurturing a small, helpless animal. An adorable furry animal. "This fucking... squeak, exactly like you made when you fell." Sam's giggles are getting stronger, and he's begun shaking. His amusement has cushioned the nerves now. Sam wants to hold something in his arms. Something that is cute, and furry. Adorable and small. Anton feels himself shrink, tucks the butch Kyle Reese deeper away. "It's just, one moment you're riding this speeding truck, pumping the shotgun, looking like this fucking badass, and then the next..." Sam breaks down into giggles, enthusiastically miming Anton's accident. "It was just..."

Curious, Anton scoots his chair forward, puts his leg up on the table with a thud. "Look."

The laughter ceases abruptly, as Anton guessed. "What?"

Anton picks gently at the edge of his bandage, fingers the frayed edge, looks up into Sam's eyes again. "It hurts," he whines, drawing in the resulting hot flare of arousal shooting through the human. If he plays this right, he may not need to feed again today at all.

"It hurts, right here." Anton gently strokes the wounded area. _Nurture me._

Sam swallows visibly. Anton can smell his sweat. "Yeah?"

He nods. "Yeah. Wanna see?" Worthington most definitely does want to see, but he doesn't quite let on. Having seduced his share of humans in his time, Anton can't pinpoint exactly how this feels different. He's been with otherwise straight guys who were confused about their attraction to him, but why the leg? Why this? Nothing in his experience can explain it, but suddenly he's dying to find out.

Emboldened, he unfastens the gauze and begins unwinding it from his calf. Worthington's pupils dilate ever so slightly.

"I hit it pretty hard," Anton murmurs, letting his eyes flutter briefly shut as the bandage peels off, riding the waves of sensation as they pass through. His leg itches where the flesh has already begun to knit together. "See?" _You're so big and strong. I'm so helpless..._

Sam's tongue glides rapidly over his parted lips. "Yeah." He's reaching out to touch, the way Anton's seen humans do before, except it's usually for his penis. Usually he's much more sure what's about to happen. But Sam hasn't even glanced at Anton's crotch. He's just reaching for the aching, itching leg.

Sam strokes the backs of his knuckles as gently as he can over Anton's wound, sending a shiver through his body. He barely manages to suppress his growl. Sam squeezes Anton's shin, firmly, bursting the rudimentary scar that's formed. Anton watches amazed as Sam takes his hand to his mouth. Sucks off the traces of blood. This regular, run-of-the-mill, mundane, "tell-me-how-you-feel", 2000-calories-a-day, one-of-6.5-billion, single-talent human just fucking tasted his -

" _Fuuuck_." Anton allows his thighs to part, shamelessly grasping himself where his shorts are immediately tenting. He pants, watching Sam suck his fingers with little grunts of satisfaction. "You...?"

Sam responds with a joyful groan, reaches out again. Anton's only a little surprised to see himself pushing his leg closer, offering it. Sam's arousal and satiation are filling him up in a way he hasn't felt very often. Even the most satisfied, slutty, multi-orgasmic humans he's fucked haven't felt... quite like this. Anton can't put his finger on it.

"...just had to. More?"

"Yeah." Anton feels his cock further swell with blood. He squeezes harder. "You like it?"

Sam groans in the affirmative, running a thumb up the now leaking gash until it's painted a thick, sticky red, sticks it between his lips and it's just about the dirtiest fucking thing Anton's ever seen and that's it. Anton puts his leg back down, lunges forward and kisses Sam hard, plunges his tongue in to taste his own blood. It tastes the same as usual but it's no doubt doing something serious for Worthington.

Whatever is going on right now is about a thousand distinct types of wrong, most of which Sam doesn't even know, which in itself is perverse. And Anton has no idea just when things shifted from "what the fuck" to "fuck, yeah" but he is so cool with this right now. He's too turned on to even take umbrage to Sam hefting him over to the cot against the wall like a doll, dropping him unceremoniously on his back.

Sam lies between Anton's splayed thighs, covering him with his larger body, and begins rolling his strong hips. Anton groans in pleasure, pushing back, careful not to buck the human right off the cot. Then he bites his own lip, hard, because keeping Sam in this particular position a while longer is worth having a tender lip for an hour or two. It'll be long healed by the time he's back in the makeup chair.

Sam makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl, diving back into Anton's mouth, sucking on the fresh wound, and goddamn. He is really getting off on this. In fact the nature of Sam's arousal has become significantly sharper, hotter, since his first taste of Anton's blood. Like someone took Worthington's subtle, vague attraction to Anton and poured gasoline on it. Anton's in too much of a haze to think too hard about the implications of the emotions he's sucking in, just rakes his fingers through Sam's short hair relishing the distinct taste of the human's saliva and the feel of his insides. Though he can't help but wonder what their co-workers might think if they could see the kinky shit that's going on right now. Sam chuckles in agreement.

...Wait, _what_!?

The kiss breaks immediately as Anton panics just a tiny bit. Sam, however, doesn't miss a beat, and if only Anton could still Sam's hips for just a second, he'd be able to fit the pieces together. But Sam is, impossibly, too strong to hold still, which makes Anton freak out even more, even as he feels the tip of his dick getting wet. There's no way he's asking Sam to stop now; all he can do is arch his back and gulp down breaths as Sam's rhythm speeds up. From this angle Sam would have to bite his chest or collarbone to get another taste of his blood. Before Anton's done thinking that he might like that, he feels Sam's enthusiastic agreement clamp down around him like a hug. Anton feels teeth breach his skin, his toes curl and he's coming hard in his briefs with the taste of spit and sweat and lust and his own blood washing over him.

Anton wishes he could just bask in the afterglow, let his leg cramp dissipate and enjoy the feeling of Sam sucking on his skin, but the human's pleasure is about to burst. Gathering up his superior strength he finally manages to push Sam off of him, the man crashing down on his broad back. He effortlessly tears Sam's jeans and underwear open, swallows down his cock with one wet, eager slide. The human groans loudly and it takes all of Anton's practised skill to collect Sam's orgasm in his mouth and in his soul. It's delicious in both. He pulls slowly off of Sam's sated body, tilts his head back and lets the human's fluid trickle slowly down his throat, just the way he likes. He can feel Sam watching him in awe and it's perfect. Anton, in this moment, feels like exactly the creature he's meant to be.

Later he'll apologize for Sam's ripped clothing and offer to replace it. Also, he had been thinking about something important earlier but he'll be damned if he can remember now. All he can do now is peel Sam's shirt off, lie next to him and lick the sweat from his body.


End file.
